Monday, 28 October 2013

Some of you
will already know that I run the programme at Bridgwater Arts Centre in
Somerset, as a volunteer. A perk of this insanity is that I get to meet lots of
artists from musicians to actors to comedians.

Last night,
I arrived with family and friends hoping to sit quietly in a corner to enjoy Jo
Caulfield’s ‘Better the devil you know’ show. But I was met in reception with, “You’re
introducing Jo Caulfield, ok?”

Eek!

You see it’s
one thing introducing a band, or gig because you just have to shout out their
name in an excited voice and clap a lot. But a comedian? Well, I’ve only ever
seen them introduced by other comedians – you know, the warm-up guy, who says
something funny.

Problem is:
I am the world’s worst teller of jokes. I either remember the story but forget
the punchline, or I remember the punchline with no clue as to how to get to it.
So, slightly panicked, that is what I said for my intro, adding, “Lucky for you
to be in the hands of the sharp-witted, funny Jo Caulfield instead.” Phew.

We had a
little chat in the interval as I cheekily pointed out that we were on the same
page in the local paper last week, and gave her a copy of my novel. She
graciously accepted and got me back by adding, “You’ll introduce the second
half?”

“Yes, of
course,” I squeaked.

Well I was
determined to be funny this time, and I’m planning a pretend joke to poke fun
at myself or some such genius. And I got my laugh: after taking the stage,
reaching for the mic and promptly dropping it to the floor with a thud! Needless
to say, the gifted comedienne and the audience got some mileage out of that.
And I’m quite sure Jo felt the title of her tour validated once more.

Tuesday, 22 October 2013

I have
decided that writing a book is like folding time. (Yes, I may have spent too
much time with the lovely son in the company of select science fiction).

But it’s
true. Time is elastic. For example, there’s the big long time when I worry
about what to write, how to address the structure, the different voices etc.
Then there’s the stretchy procrastinating time filled with a million displacement
activities.Then there’s the manic time
in fast-motion as my arm aches trying to keep up with the words that are
pouring out onto the page. (Yes, I am a pen and paper girl).

Next is the
slower type-it-up stage where time plods as slowly as my rubbish four finger
typing.

Eventually,
I send the manuscript off and time stops! Well, it must have, because no-one is
bombarding me with replies, begging for my wonderful work…

Stopped time
has been anything from months to years. This time, it worked. The reply came
from the interested publisher. Woohoo! And time became a workload of serious attention
as the Editor appeared.

Guess what? Time
stopped again. I had to wait for my place on the list…whenever that might be.

And bang. A
big bang for me. Launch date is announced and it’s only weeks away. Watch that
time fly as press are contacted, posters and cards made, parties planned and
strategies considered.

Lovely son
tells everyone he meets about my book, describing it as ‘a bit 50 shades’,
which he hasn’t read so I’m not sure what his connection is…who cares? At least
he’s proud of me.